


a loser's serendipity

by wendysheep



Series: before the retrospect [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (and it is indeed a romance dont let suna tell you otherwise x), Awkward Flirting, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Karasuno game, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, tbh its barely even flirting theyre just useless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendysheep/pseuds/wendysheep
Summary: Suna loses multiple times, but it's for a pretty good cause.
Relationships: Ginjima Hitoshi/Suna Rintarou
Series: before the retrospect [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151243
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	a loser's serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> FOR DAY 1 of rarepair week CONFESSIONS and FIRSTS.  
> finally feeding my ginsuna brainrot. they're so neat. 
> 
> and thank you x10000 Jane [(kunimi!!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/kunimi) on here!!) for making my writing so pretty as well as showing me how to get the en-dash on my devices. my writing is forever transformed (only took me 5 years) <333 

_We don’t need things like memories_.

This is their motto. The team plays by it, save for Kita, who is his own source of wisdom, and Suna, who doesn’t really give a shit about school spirit.

The whistle blows.

The banner above them stills.

_We don’t need this memory_.

Suna thinks this quietly, eyes unmoving from the painfully orange court where the ball just dropped. Concluding the final point, final game, and final outcome of their volleyball career for the year. 

Ginjima is on the ground, hands sprawled, one stretched out further than the other. 

The ball is slowing in front of him, mocking.

_I don’t want this memory_.

Suna remembers many things about Ginjima. 

He remembers the way he spikes his hair up through the reflection of the class window before homeroom starts. He remembers the crinkle of his eyes when he laughs at the twins’ theatrics (and how quickly it disappears when Aran gives him a pointed look). He remembers the way he shifts closer to hear Suna’s muttered quips during their team strategy discussions, knees touching, elbows too, and stays there. He remembers how Ginjima scrunches his nose and pouts when his rash decisions cause a lost point or messy play, and that his eyebrows are always knit together, even when he’s off the court. Especially when he’s off the court.

Suna remembers his fiery tenacity, willpower – whatever you want to call it. That thing Suna _doesn’t_ have, admires Ginjima for _having_. “I don’t have a special _thing_ like you guys, so the least I can give to this team is my all.” It didn’t sound shameful, but Suna imagined it would, had it come out of his own mouth. As it came out of Ginjima’s, it was entangled with that fiery tenacity, willpower, _courage_ , that defined what he meant clearly: _and my all, you will receive_. A vow.

All this and more, Suna remembers.

Ginjima doesn’t meet his eyes when Suna extends his hand to help him up.

* * *

“You should check up on him.”

Suna’s head whips up from his phone, only because he knows it’s Kita from the way his body instinctively tenses at the sound. Kita stands at a respectable distance, his toothbrush in one hand and a towel in the other, about to get ready for bed and rest for the game they don’t have tomorrow.

“On who?” Suna asks, like he hasn’t been sitting by the door for the past twenty minutes, waiting for _who_ to walk back in any moment now.

Regardless, Suna feels he gets away without suspicion, even if he did up and leave in the middle of the team dissecting their game against Karasuno.

Suna’s vindication is that anyone in his position would have done the same. Atsumu had spent the first half of it shaking Suna’s arm with too much urgency while squawking things like “ya _so_ could’a stopped that!” or “are ya seeing this? Suna, are ya fuckin’ seeing this shit?"as if they’re not sitting in front of the same screen. 

And he could only handle Atsumu rewinding the clip to replay Suna’s missed block so many times. Four was annoying, but _twelve_? That’s just Atsumu begging for a beating.

Kita stares at Suna for a few seconds, giving him an out from his false naivety, because he’s Kita and he’s omniscient, omnipresent, and just barely short of being omnipotent. Suna, like a blind atheist in the presence of a god, rejects the saving grace by remaining silent.

“Gin.”

“Oh.” 

Suna’s eyes flicker down at his phone, then back at Kita, then at his phone, then at Atsumu – who’s on his way to manifesting that beating from his new victim, Osamu – then at Kita, who is still fucking staring.

Is this another challenge? Is Suna really going to have to face defeat for the second time today? And to his own teammate? Brutal.

“You don’t need to talk about it. He knows his mistakes. We all do. We just watched them.” Ouch, Suna might console Ginjima for that comment alone. “But we know yours too. And Atsumu’s, and Osamu’s. And mine; I underestimated their captain. It does no good dwelling on it; we did as we did.” Kita’s just reflecting audibly at this point, his gaze having averted to the side during this deliberation. 

Somehow, it still feels like Kita won that stare-off.

And Suna’s not a sore loser or anything, but fulfilling Kita’s order – and that’s what it is, an order. Shit, maybe he _is_ omnipotent – just seems like a trap for his _third_ loss of the day, and Suna was really just hoping to laugh at a few fail compilations on YouTube (with Ginjima), maybe scroll through Instagram for a bit (and poke fun at Ginjima’s amateur account), and customarily be the last one to fall asleep with his phone slipping out of his hand and onto his chest (which Ginjima never forgets to pick up and plug it into the charger before he himself goes to sleep. Swoon).

“You want me to do it?” Suna asks, feigning surprise.

Kita’s nod is instant and accompanied with a look that levitates Suna off his ass and onto his feet, phone magically pushed deep into his back pocket.

Suna trails behind Kita, careful not to make obvious the pins and needles in his right leg in case Kita’s back-of-the-head-stare calls him out for not sitting correctly.

When they meet the hallway at a split, Kita halts, Suna right behind him, and looks over his shoulder.

“Please head to bed at a reasonable time.”

Suna isn’t generally a presumptuous guy, yet knowing that Kita is the type of person to script his words before speaking them, there’s probably some implication to pick out.

Eh. Then again, Suna’s not up for putting what is left of his energy to deciphering enigma-equivalent code tonight. This won’t take long. He’ll tell Ginjima to come back inside because it’s cold as shit out, and that’s that. Bed by reasonable time, as requested. 

He nods, which seems to be enough for Kita, because he turns back around and continues down the hall, leaving Suna to his own devices.

Suna plucks his Inarizaki jacket from the coat hanger at the end of the hallway, and slides open the door on the adjacent wall.

The air nips at his skin, peppering it with goosebumps even underneath the multiple layers of clothing (a thin t-shirt and a team jacket that does fuck all to retain body heat). From staring at various screens for a few hours too long, Suna’s eyes have just barely adjusted to the darkness outside, guided by the warm lighting along the stone walkway. 

Suna’s not a romantic by any means, but if he were, he would best describe it as incandescent. 

_If_ he were a romantic.

“Gin,” he calls, not too loudly, when he sees a seated figure that vaguely resembles his teammate; historians would go as far as to call them close friends. Suna would go one step further, intuitively speaking.

Suna approaches the bench and plops down beside Ginjima.

“‘Sup,” Ginjima bobs his head in greeting.

“Dude, it’s cold as shit,” Suna says, as planned.

Ginjima agrees with a half-hearted hum.

They sit there, unmoving, staring at the ground in front of them. For whatever reason, Ginjima’s not wearing his shoes, his feet clad only in some white socks that are bound to get dirty against the stone. Suna taps his foot against Ginjima’s.

"What's with the socks?"

"Shoes got tight after the game, my feet are kinda swollen."

Suna bounces his eyebrows. A silent _ah, I see_ , and continues to tap.

Tap.

Tap tap.

Tap.

“You don’t hafta wait for me,” Ginjima says suddenly. “Just needed a bit of fresh air.”

Suna shrugs. The thought of being inside, back in the warmth, catching up on a much-needed sleep, sounds very appealing. Not quite as appealing as Ginjima, though. Suna will take the cold for the buzzing feeling spreading through his body.

“Seriously, Rin, yer shivering.”

Oh, that’s what that is. Metaphorical buzzing, then.

“I’m fine.” Super fine. Just that his ass is numb, but aside from that.

“Want my jacket?” Ginjima offers, already unzipping it. 

Suna gestures at himself, his jacket, with one hand, an eyebrow raised.

“And yer still freezing. Go back inside,” Ginjima says, zipping his jacket back up.

“I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

“Suna,” Ginjima’s lips curve, almost disapproving.

“Do you want me to?” Wholly unintentional; that was meant to be a thought. 

Ginjima’s fingers linger on the zipper before he tucks both hands into the pockets.

“Just don’t get sick, or else I won’t come near ya.” 

Suna would know it’s a joke even if Ginjima didn’t have that amused look on his face. Last time Suna skipped school with a cold, Ginjima sheepishly showed up at his door with a pot of soup and a notebook filled with things he missed in class.

Cut to Suna inviting him in and sitting beside him, resting his chin on Ginjima’s forearm as the latter helped him study. _Won’t come near ya_ be damned.

“I won’t,” Suna says anyway.

Ginjima, as pleased as he seems at Suna’s baseless promise, remains quiet. The only time Suna knows Ginjima to be characteristically so is when he’s trying to bite back a laugh at one of Suna’s inappropriately-timed jokes.

Around Ginjima, Suna is acutely aware of his selfishness. Remembers himself and the way he _only_ remembers himself. He came out here for Ginjima; best let him know that, too. But like, three minutes later – give a man some time to collect his thoughts and all.

“We have next year.”

And Suna thinks that should be enough. 

Unsurprisingly, he’s the last resort when it comes to consolation. Atsumu will tell him off for whatever he says because _you don’t understand, ya emotionless fuckin' dick!_ Osamu won’t say anything because he prefers brooding alone and stays silent to Suna’s ‘ _it’s fine’_ s and ‘ _don’t mind’_ s. Other members of the team don’t interact with him enough to benefit from his passing input. 

And Ginjima is usually too busy patting the backs of those upset to process whether or not he can be so for himself. Now is Suna’s only opportunity to return the favor on behalf of everyone else. Not that he necessarily ever wanted such an opportunity.

Until that self-awareness speaks to Suna, asks him how the weight of Ginjima’s head would feel on his shoulder, or if Suna’s lips would brush against his spiky hair as he pulls him closer into his chest, run his fingers through once, twice, as many times as Ginjima would allow.

“Yeah,” Ginjima interrupts imaginary-Suna from brushing his nose against his temple. “Yeah, yer right,” he sighs, and looks up at Suna, eyes gentle.

Fuck. Since when do Ginjima’s eyes go gentle? And since when could Suna _feel_ his own eyes do that in return?

Suna snaps his gaze away to their feet again, where it’s comfortable. Ha-ha. Ginjima in socks. Peak comedy. Nerves gone.

“We have next year,” Ginjima feeds his own words back to Suna in a firm voice. It sounds like it means something completely different than when Suna had said it.

To Suna, it’s a matter of fact. To Ginjima, it’s a motivation.

“Yeah. So. Don’t cry.”

Ginjima drags his hand down his face and chuckles.

“Dude, ya suck at that.”

“What?” Suna’s mouth forms a crooked smile.

“ _Don’t cry_ ,” Ginjima mocks, and Suna laughs at his impression. It’s horribly cute and charmingly bad.

“And you’re not,” Suna shrugs.

“I wasn’t gonna!” Ginjima says indignantly and it’s too loud and in Suna’s ear and Suna wants to just lean in and bump shoulders. He does. Ginjima bumps back. Suna thinks this is hardcore flirting.

“And when Kita-san made his little speech?”

“Dusty gym,” Ginjima waves his hand dismissively.

“Ah, so nothing to do with playing your last game with your _senpais_?” Suna puts strong emphasis on it, knowing that out of everyone on the team, even a few of the first years, Ginjima takes the whole concept of 'respect your elders' most seriously. Though to be fair, the competition wouldn't even be able to place runner-up by default.

“Yer an actual monster,” Ginjima scoffs, his mouth gaping, but it's all in good humour.

“Thanks.”

“Nope.”

“Thank you,” Suna places his hand on his chest, touched.

“Nah. ‘Sides, I’m fine now.”

“Come to terms with being a loser?” Suna asks. See? Flirting.

“Have you?” Ginjima shoots back, sinking himself into the bench

Suna pretends to think. “Sure, I guess. It’s a one time thing anyway. I’m not concerned.” The reply is surprisingly earnest.

“Whoa,” Ginjima straightens his posture, sitting a bit taller than Suna now.

“What.”

“Yer totally mad about it.”

“What?” Suna’s face scrunches, looking a little bemused. He was only teasing, relax. “I’m not mad about it.”

“You so are. Yer actually upset about losing.”

Suna sits up to his full height and leans back, huffing a laugh.

“I mean I’m – yeah, I’m not _happy_ about it, but I’m not depressed or anything. Or mad.”

It’s intended to have a casual, lighthearted tone, because Suna thinks the whole thing is casual and lighthearted, but Suna finds that, at least compared to his normal attitude, it comes off rather defensive.

“But ya definitely don’t wanna lose next time.”

“Obviously not, who likes losing?”

Ginjima chuckles. “Stuff like that isn’t obvious with ya, Rin.”

“Stuff like what?”

“Having interests outside of Candy Crush.”

Suna smirks.

“But you know what I like,” he says nonchalantly; he thinks it’s all that matters, which is mostly true.

“True,” Ginjima says, then lifts a finger up to his bottom lip, like he’s thinking.

“Ya like chuupets.” Suna nods, correct. Continue. “Ya like _cherry_ chuupets. Ya like baggy clothes. Ya like that place in the corner of the cafeteria, ‘cuz you can put yer feet up on the bench and lean against the wall.”

As Ginjima continues to list the things Suna likes – some of which are so specific, Suna wonders how he’s never realised for himself before – Suna finds himself _watching_ Ginjima, how his top lip thins out when his smile goes really wide, skims over the way the orange glow outlines the bridge of his straight nose, his jaw, the brow bone where the tail of his eyebrow used to be before it met its unfortunate fate with the bunsen burner in science class. 

Suna would pinpoint that day as the catalyst to the amount of thoughts he’s had about Ginjima since. Anything (any _one_ ) that makes Suna laugh so hard that it slips his mind to take a picture is worth remembering. Over time, the memory has gotten hazy, yet the scene of Ginjima laughing with him, suddenly looking cute with the ice pack covering half of his reddened face, making Suna realise he wants to laugh with Ginjima all the time – and also make out, but mostly laugh and be happy, something proven to be exceptionally easy around him – is as clear today as it was when it first happened.

No, Suna isn’t a romantic person, so he’s not going to say that the feeling in his chest is what’s warming him up in lieu of his jacket, or that the goosebumps on his arms are still there for a completely different reason. He isn’t going to think about how Ginjima’s sandy brown eyes makes him want to sink his toes into the beach where the waves meet the shore, waiting for Ginjima to push him in with that _damn laugh_ – Suna tears his gaze before he can finish the thought. So maybe Ginjima makes him a little _idyllic_ , but he’s still not a romantic. Absolutely not.

Ginjima’s knee is bare and bruised. It’s the one he wears a kneepad on, so it’s likely the other one is even worse. Not that Suna hasn’t poked fun at it constantly before, but he really does wonder why Ginjima only wears one. Suna doesn't even internally question why Ginjima would think to go out in shorts. They're his pyjamas, he knows that much, and Ginjima's also generally the type of person to wear flip-flops well into autumn, so it's not the craziest sight to see. Impressive, though. Suna can't stand the cold.

Oh. Ginjima’s gone quiet, probably weirded out by Suna staring so intently at his knee. 

It’s okay, this can be salvaged! Suna’ll just ask– and they’re speaking at the same time.

“Why don’t you wear the other one?”

“ _Ya like me._ ”

And thus, the slightly ajar eyes that Suna is infamous for is no more. His eyes blow wide, catching Ginjima’s for a brief moment, if even that, before looking pointedly at the half-illuminated walkway ahead of him.

What-the-shit-what-the-shit-what-the–

“‘Cuz we’re best friends. Obviously ya like me, or we… we wouldn’t be… Probably...” Ginjima babbles, scratching the back of his head.

_Haaa… beeeest frieeenddss…_

“Mmm.”

“It’d be a weird friendship if ya didn’t.”

“Really weird.”

“The weirdest.”

“Mmm.”

Ginjima makes a sound of agreement mixed with the interjection of whatever ball built up in his throat. Suna can tell through his peripheral that Ginjima’s Adam's apple bobs.

“But, uh…”

Suna turns his head slightly. He’s listening but knows better than to look at Ginjima’s eyes again. Safe spot is the knee, that specific bruise that's still red and starting to purple. It might just be that it's too dark to see.

“Just, it’s not weird that you do, if ya do, y’know, cuz,” Ginjima turns his head away. “I’d hafta like ya back. Y’know?”

It’s a strange feeling when something you’ve been predicting for a while turns out to be correct. And yet despite having been expecting this moment for some time now, Suna is still shocked.

It sounds different from how he'd imagined it. Better, Suna thinks, from Ginjima’s own mouth.

There’s a loud smack that makes Suna look over and see Ginjima’s hands covering his face.

“ _ThatwassoweirdI’msorry_.” It’s mostly incomprehensible, his murmur muffled. Suna just barely manages to catch it through the sound of his blood pumping through his ears.

Ginjima’s been around Suna for long enough to study how his actions translate his unspoken words; a talent of its own, since Suna likes ambiguity – low huffs and subtle eyebrow twitches.

None have ever been as obvious as what he does next. The non-solace found in Ginjima’s knee is covered by Suna’s hand. He smacks it down, ungentle about it due to his natural nonchalance, but undoubtedly more so due to his nerves bouncing around and impeding his coordination.

Suna keeps staring down. He can’t tease Ginjima for something he himself is doing. It’s incredibly embarrassing and oh god this is what _real_ flirting is and being sixteen is so stupid and lame and Suna hates it. Forget being over six foot, he feels fucking tiny! Ginjima’s knee is bony, why is that kinda hot?

“Suna?”

_Nope. I’ll answer from here, thanks._

Ginjima tugs on his wrist slightly – ohhhhh it’ll totally shit on Suna’s pride or heart or both if Ginjima is trying to take Suna off of him. 

He’s not. He’s just moving it between them on the bench, keeping his fingers linked around Suna’s wrist. Suna’s fingers splay out against the cold but he doesn’t feel it as much against the overwhelming relief.

Suna looks.

Soft, sandy brown eyes. Returns them with his own.

Ginjima leans in a bit closer. Fractionally. Suna might just be fucking delusional, so he’ll lean in too, in any case.

“Why’d ya come out here?”

“You took a while,” and to give credit where credit is due. “Also, Kita.”

Ginjima huffs a laugh. Kita apparently triggers him to look down at Suna’s lips. Kita makes Ginjima decide to lean in more patently.

Kita’s a total wingman. Completely forgiven for all the times he’s confiscated Suna’s phone.

“Suna?” Ginjima says in a voice just above a whisper. 

“Yeah.” It cracks faintly.

Ginjima brushes the tip of his nose against Suna’s.

“I like ya. Back.”

There’s a fair possibility that this is only some unhinged hallucination, and the moment their lips will touch, Suna will wake up through a hypnic jerk, deliriously staring at his closet back in his room and pretend he’s not forced to differentiate his dream from the ever-disappointing reality.

Much to his luck, Ginjima is very much real and very much here, his lips touching Suna’s in a feathery graze that’s a dream of its own.

The kiss is cold. Ginjima’s lips are chapped, his jaw slightly more slacked than Suna’s, who’s too timid to even angle his head in a tilt, make it more comfortable for them both. Their noses prod at each other’s cheeks awkwardly. Suna is really, _really_ nervous when the kiss feels kind of wet, and tries to remember whether or not the weather had given him a runny nose earlier. Kisses are meant to be wet, he shouldn't worry.

Frankly, neither have much experience with it. Suna none, by choice (just not his), and Ginjima twice, in junior high (but it was with a girl and they only dated for two weeks, so does it really even count? Suna claims the throne as Ginjima’s first boy kiss. It’s a durable throne, too. Just to throw that out there.)

Ginjima pulls off the hand that’s been clasped around Suna’s wrist this entire time, leaving a bitter chill in its wake, an unwelcome distraction. Suna is about to complain, mouth widening automatically, when Ginjima’s hand suddenly slides onto the side of Suna’s head, thumb brushing over his cheek softly, the other fingers in his hair pulling him closer.

Mortifying. That’s the word Suna would use to explain the sound that escapes his parted lips.

Ginjima laughs breathily into his mouth, and Suna fucking _called_ it. There, the third loss of the day, of Ginjima’s lips on his, the worst damn one. With his eyes still squeezed shut, Suna whips his head away from Ginjima, cringing so hard that the harsh creases on the root of his nose become painful. He would make a joke about becoming a fortune teller if not for that _sound_ replaying in his head, as if someone had caught it on a recording and decided to play it through a megaphone. Is this what it’s like being around Suna? Constantly in fear of having your worst moments immortalised on account of a measly phone? Oh man, if Atsumu were here, he would definitely use this against–

A boisterous, incredibly boyish laugh cuts through Suna’s thoughts. He looks back at Ginjima, who’s grinning big, like, _top lip thinned out_ big.

“Why’d ya do that?”

Suna can hardly bring himself to speak, just stare at Ginjima blankly.

“I…” 

Yeah. True that.

Ginjima cocks his head.

“Not the sound. That was fine, that was nice,” he says far too casually, making Suna’s cheeks heat up. “I mean, why’d ya turn away?”

“I don’t…” Suna trails off, unable to find the right words to express… well, he doesn’t know quite exactly what he’s trying to express, to be honest.

Ginjima slaps his hand onto Suna’s shoulder.

“Aw, Suna, _don’t cry_.”

Suna blinks. Ginjima’s biting down on his lip, the apples of his cheeks still swollen. Okay, yeah, fuck it, Suna’s a romantic – a _hopeless_ romantic – and is officially head over heels, totally in love with Ginjima. He can’t wait to be obnoxious about it, hang off Ginjima in practice or drape his legs over him during lunchtimes (a whole lot more once the others complain).

“I suck at that,” Suna says, which is his version of telling Ginjima his not-too-newfound epiphany.

“So do I, it’s fine.”

“You sound like Kita-san.”

“‘Preciate it,” Ginjima says. “Speaking of, yer nose is runny. We should go inside before ya catch a cold or Kita-san gets mad.”

There’s something truly poetic about the way the worst case scenario keeps catching Suna in the best experience of his life. He pats beneath his nose with his sleeve.

“It’s cute though,” Ginjima adds a few seconds later.

“Thanks,” Suna mutters, knowing damn well that it’s not. Ginjima smiles at him, sliding his hand from his shoulder down to Suna’s own. He gives it a light squeeze and before Suna can squeeze back, Ginjima presses their lips together with a loud smack.

“You’re going too fast,” Suna complains once he recovers from the surprise. No unnecessary sounds this time.

“Me and that Karasuno number ten are really on yer ass today, huh?” Ginjima laughs at the unimpressed look he receives. “Joking, joking. Kinda. I’ll slow down. Like, actually. Can I kiss ya again?”

Suna’s a little awkward about most things, _these_ things especially, and apparently Ginjima’s not, meaning Suna has to up his game.

“Yeah, alright.”

Ginjima scoots closer and Suna instantly closes his eyes, waiting.

“Ya know, I was gonna ask you out if we won finals. I was really tryna make it happen. Tore my ass on the court, both for the gold and for you.” Suna opens his eyes, eyebrows itching to furrow. “Then we lost, and I was like, well shit, what a stupid incentive. Not only did we fail to get into finals, but I don’t even get to ask ya out. It was really dumb. I came out here to think about it.”

“You’re sappy.”

Ginjima kisses him. Soft, slow, warm, _warm_. Suna feels himself continue to lean in even as Ginjima pulls away.

“I’m not glad we lost, and yer definitely more mad about it than me—”

“I’m not mad—”

“But still, I think it’s kinda cool that I actually get to ask ya a few days earlier than planned,” Ginjima hums.

Has Suna mentioned _how much_ of an obnoxious couple he intends them to be? Super obnoxious. Incredibly, ridiculously obnoxious.

“You think I would’ve said yes?” Suna asks, amused, because the answer’s been evident for longer than it hasn’t. They both know that.

“I take back what I said before,” Ginjima says, slotting his fingers between Suna’s against the bench.

Suna can’t recall that far back into the conversation; all he can think of is how perfectly it fit. They fit.

“Yer pretty obvious about the stuff you like, Rin.”

And how lucky for Suna that Ginjima picks up very quickly on just how much he likes Ginjima’s lips against his.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to scream at me about ginsuna, or hear ME scream about them every now and then, you can find me on twitter [here!](https://twitter.com/wendysheep)


End file.
